


Wounds of the past

by Rae_Saxon



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: But Not Much, F/M, but no violence, but that happens all the time, except most of Gallifrey I guess, no one dies, there's some blood, there's some sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22187227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Saxon/pseuds/Rae_Saxon
Summary: The Master has set a trap for the Doctor and has her in his TARDIS. Until two boys knock on his doors, asking for help and reminding both of them painfully of the people they used to be.
Relationships: The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 218





	Wounds of the past

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, it's me again, what can I say, that Master inspires me! .... but the reality is that I was super nervous and writing on my phone in the cold calmed down my nerves a little, so this was the result. I feel the need to point out that I have absolutely no idea how to patch up a wound like the one I described, so please take every wrong step I have taken not as completely dumb-assery, but as an AU for real life. As one should. And pray that I never have to take care of a wound.

A trap, the Doctor thought. An excellent one at that, too, thought that applied to most of the Master's trapped, until they weren't excellent any more.

She was still waiting for this one to fall apart.

Her hand were tied behind her back, a device connected that would fry her like a barbecue were she to leave the forcefield of the Master's TARDIS, there was nothing to do but stand in his door frame, with her chin raised in defiance and her eyes gleaming with energy, waiting, watching for life signs on the desolate planet.

The cube, the desperate call for help sent by a Time Lord, had been very real, but the Master had known, known all the time that they had survived and waited her for her, ready to have her walk right into his arms.

The Doctor sighed.

Time Lords, Gallifrey, the Master... somehow, she always ended up entangled in this tight net of complications. No matter her renegade status, no matter how fast she ran, how hard she tried to separate herself from her people – She always ended up right in the middle of their affairs.

And so do you... , she thought, half-turning to the Master, who was standing leaned over his console, thinking, hair falling into his face as he had his head hanging, a dark, brooding expression on his face.

It was all it ever wore these days.

We just can't escape them, can we?

He looked up, feeling her eyes on him, his hands still placed on his console.

“What?” he snapped.

She looked out again, sighing once more.

“I was going to ask you the same,” she said quietly. “You've got me now. What are you gonna do with it?”

He glared at her, his dark eyes full with a mix of anger and... something else, something she had seen in them a lot, since she met this incarnation. Lacking another word, she'd call it 'sadness'. Something seemed to have broken inside her old friend and enemy.

“I don't know,” he grumbled, luring out a little smirk on her face.

“I once heard that people who achieve their life long dreams fall into madness, because they have nothing to chase any more.”

The Master snorted.

“How good for you then, that you set out to chase the unachievable, your dream ideals of peace and harmony in the universe.”

“You say that like it's something bad. Why do you hate that idea so much? I almost wondered.”

The Master turned around to face her, leaning back against the console, his legs crossed and a grimace on his face.

“Seriously?”

“It's not like I'll live to tell the tale. Do spill.”

He watched her silently for a moment, his eyes slitted in suspicion, then shrugged.

“Why would I let it have peace?” he simply asked. “It never gave me a single moment of it.”

The Doctor raised her eyebrows.

"So you decided to blame the whole universe?”

“Who else would I blame?” The Master turned around again, staring into his TARDIS column, lost in thought.

“Yourself,” she replied, so quietly, she could almost bring herself to hope he wouldn't have heard her.

Almost.

He turned around with a whirl, his face extorted by rage.

“What would you have me be, then?” he growled. “What would you have me become, with parents blaming me for my very existence, with all these blows and bruises from the ones that were supposed to love me most? With teachers telling me I'll only ever bring disgrace to my house, with demons living inside my head, planted by the very man who founded our society? What chance did I have, Doctor?”

“I know all that,” she replied, her calmness in perfect contrast to his shouting. “I've been there, remember? I've seen you go through all this, I helped you...-”

He raised his finger at her angrily, almost screaming his next words.

“You _left_ me!”

“Ah,” the Doctor sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Don't you dare telling me you've helped me, when you left me, like everyone else did! Ran away like the coward that you are!”

“1567 years,” she muttered. “And he finally decides to have this conversation.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“It is, as long as you are shouting at me.”

The Master snarled, but stayed quiet, his finger still raised, his whole body still tense, but frozen on the spot.

“Your choices have always been yours,” she explained calmly. “Isn't that what you pride yourself with, _Master_? The things you did, the... the cruel things I heard you speak, think even... you can't have expected me to...-”

“I needed you,” the Master interrupted, his voice trembling from suppressed emotion. “I was screaming your name for days, back when they exiled me, until my voice had gone, and even then I screamed for you in my mind, ad where were you? On travels, having a chat with good old Davros, no doubt?”

“And where were you?” the Doctor replied with deadly calm. “The day I wept for my family, the day they burnt in the destruction in your wake, the destruction your little revolution plot has caused. I had told you, again and again, that you'd end up hurting people, but you wouldn't listen on your quest to power, did you? Where were you when I screamed and screamed and screamed over the ashes of my dead children?”

The Master's face fell, paled, but he raised his chin, his lower lip trembling as he spoke out defensively,

“Oh, did you want me to mourn with you, for the family that tore you away from me?”

“There it is again, blaming everyone but yourself,” she rolled her eyes. “I didn't want you to mourn, I wanted your _remorse_. Nothing more but a proof that there was still a person inside that cold shell of yours. No one tore me away, Master, no one but you and the choices you made. The boy I loved had long gone... turned into something so dark and twisted...”

“You promised you'd stay my friend,” he rose up. “You promised me that when you... when you left me for _her_.”

“No,” the Doctor spit back coldly. “I promised Koschei I would. Or whatever was left of him. But you had given him up quite a while ago, hadn't you?”

Before he could reply, voices were carrying over to them, and they both froze, each of them having forgotten where they were and that they weren't alone on this planet. They turned around, the voices getting louder now, clearly turning into please for help, as two boys appeared in their view through the open TARDIS doors.

She could see one of them was bleeding, a huge stain covering his white shirt, as he was leaning heavily on the second, letting himself get half-carried, half-dragged towards them, his face pale from pain and blood loss.

The second had an expression of desperate determination on his face, and carried him straight to the Master's TARDIS. She could see the defiant spark in his green eyes, the way he blew away a strand of dark hair that had fallen into his face and her hearts beat faster.

It was as if he was looking into a mirror, showing her themselves many, many centuries ago. But this wasn't Koschei, and the young, blonde boy leaning on his shoulder wasn't her and she needed to get herself together, before the Master decided that he couldn't need any witnesses for whatever his plan was.

But she needn't have worried – The Master was standing frozen in movement, staring at the children at his door and she could tell from the look in his eyes, the way his lips opened and closed as he fought for words, that he, too, had felt the ghost of the past gripping his hearts.

"Please,” the dark-haired boy pleaded, barely glancing at them, his eyes completely fixed on his injured friend. “He needs help, he's hurt and I don't know what to do. We've been attacked, and teleported, I can't find the others, I don't know what happened, I don't even know where we are, I just know I can't lose him. He's all I have. Just please, please, you need to help him!”

Something on the Master's face fell into place, his lips twitched, the hardness in his eyes softened, just a little bit, but the Doctor still stayed on guard, ready to jump between him and the kids should it be needed.

But it didn't seem that way. He nodded, just once, and the boys clumsily stumbled inside. He took the injured child almost tenderly into his arms and the boy let go almost immediately, passing out in his arms even as they were walking. He brought him to a table, the Doctor following close behind. Lying down the boy, he instructed the other to go and grab him his TARDIS medic-kit, before starting to tear off the child's shirt, inspecting the wounds with a worried frown.

The Doctor stepped closer, her arms still tied behind her back, and flinched.

“Did you do that?” she mumbled lowly, so no one would hear them, ad the Master looked terribly lost for a moment.

“I must have,” he muttered back. “Can't really remember much. I was... in a state.”

“That much is clear.”

There was a tear gaping over the boy's side, going up to his chest. It was still bleeding heavily, which was a good sign, as that meant there was still blood to bleed out, but the Master didn't seem to realise that – His hands trembled as he tore away the last shambles of the shirt the child was wearing, staring down at the wound.

He tore his head up, looking at the Doctor pleadingly, and when the boy returned with the medic-kit, she sighed.

“I'll lead you through it step for step. First, you have to clean and disinfect the wound.”

The Master nodded, still visibly pale, and pulled out a bottle with disinfectant, the child watching nervously, as he started pouring it over a pad of cotton.

“It'll sting and he'll likely wake up from the fresh pain, maybe even scream. But it's gotta be done or he dies of an infection. You gotta pull through, you hear me?”

He nodded again, clearly lost for speech, and began dabbing the wound, his hands growing steadier as he pressed his teeth together in silent determination, not stopping even when the boy started moaning in pain. He began thrashing, but without having to be told, his friend was by his side, gently pinning down his shoulders and whispering reassurances to him.

“It'll be okay,” he promised. “I'm here, I'm here and I got you help, like I said I would. Didn't I say I would?”

The Doctor couldn't help but remember, remember his father hitting him, remember the school bullies coming for them again and again, Koschei stepping up between them, shouting at people to stay away, shouting at his father, holding him when he was crying, telling him the very same things.

So many lives between then and now, so much broken, but the Master looked up to her, just for a second, and their eyes met.

Before stopping, he gave the Doctor another quiet look full of question and she nodded, then pointed her chin towards the sewing needles in the kit.

All colour drained from the Master's face.

“You can do it,” she promised hastily. “You need to.”

He wasn't doing too bad. The Doctor watched him almost tenderly, as he started sewing the wound shut. He had, of course, always been talented with his hands, always been a quick learner, and with her gentle instructions, he patched the boy up rather efficiently. It was so rare to watch him take care of anyone though, the Doctor realised. It was a shame – He was rather good at it.

The Master pointed at the bandages with a silent question in his eyes and the Doctor nodded.

He could do this part alone.

The injured boy had woken up fully now, letting his friend stroke his blonde hair softly, rattling breaths still telling of the pain he was feeling, but otherwise he was being very quiet, staring at the ceiling, trying to stay calm.

“He will be alright, yes?” his friend asked her, whispering.

The Doctor nodded.

“He will need some time to heal fully, though. He should move as little as possible and you'll need to be careful so the wound won't open up again. A lot of water, to make up for the blood loss and to restore energy. Have you got somewhere safe to stay? He can take you.”

The boy shrugged. “I'll find something. I'll take care of him. He's all I have, he is.”

“I know,” the Doctor whispered, glancing at the Master sadly, who was still focused on his work, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that he had heard them.

They let the boy rest after that, leaving him a little time alone with his friend and drew back into the console room. The Doctor sat down in the door frame again, looking outside onto the desolate planet the Time Lords had to seek shelter on.

The Master came to stand behind her, fingers still stained from blood.

They stayed silent for a little while, both lost in their own thoughts.

“I don't know how to be anything else,” the Master said after some time, as if there hadn't been a stop to their conversation, but his tone much gentler now than it had been before. “I never learned.”

Their eyes met.

“Of course you haven't,” she raised her arms behind her back, the ties clearly visible to him. “You've hunted and cursed and pinned down the only person willing to try and teach you.”

He didn't say anything, just stood there. They could hear the boys in the neighbour room whispering in the silence that followed, no one knowing what to say.

Finally, the Doctor said, “You still haven't answered my question. What are you planning on doing with me now? Killing me?”

The Master blinked, as if confused, then frowned, then turned around.

The boys were standing behind him, the injured one's face contorted to a grimace of pain and he leaned on his friend.

“What are you doing?” the Master called out, rushing towards them. “He needs to lie down.”

Faster than the Doctor could look, the dark-haired boy had build himself up between the Master and his friend, his arm still stretched up to help him stay upright.

“Stay away from him!” he shouted energetically. “He saw you, he told me, he told me that you did this to him!”

The Master froze in place. She could see his face fall, see something inside his eyes die so clearly, it felt like a jab to her hearts. For a second, she thought he was going to jump the boys, but then he raised his hands in surrender and took some steps back.

“We're going out,” the boy announced, his voice trembling from the effort of keeping it steady. “He's not going to stay here one second longer.”

The Master grabbed something from under the console and threw it towards the boy, who caught it with slitted eyes.

“Painkillers,” the Master explained coldly. “He'll need them.”

The boy glanced to the Doctor in question, but she could see his eyes go back to the Master again and again, staying on guard to protect his friend from him if necessary. The Master didn't move, he just stared, darkly, and the Doctor nodded weakly.

It seemed to be enough for the boy, who pocketed the painkillers, grabbed his friend and dragged him out as fast as he could, apologising over and over for the pain.

The Master was still staring after them when they had long disappeared from view.

“... Master,” she began, not sure what she was going to say, but he made her stop with a single glare any way, stepping around his console and grabbing the screwdriver he'd taken off her earlier.

With a single buzz, he opened her ties.

Surprised, the Doctor let them fall to the floor and rubbed her wrists, relieved to finally be able to move her hands again.

“Are you... alright?” she asked, looking at him with worry.

He sighed.

“I've become everything I never wanted to be,” he replied, so quietly, she could barely make out his words. “I've become _them_. That was us, one day, Theta. Us against the world and now... what has become of me?”

She looked at the door. In the distance, she could still make out her own TARDIS, eagerly waiting for her return. She could just walk out now, if she wanted. She doubted that he was going to stop her, not right now.

Instead she took a step closer towards him.

“If it's any consolation,” she tried, “I've found myself in the same position during the Time War. It's weird, suddenly being the one people protect their loved ones from, rather than the one doing the protecting, but....” She looked at him almost pleadingly now. “... That's the beauty of choices, Master. We can, any day, every day, make another one. A better one. If we just... let ourselves.”

He looked so lost, his shoulders sacked, and silent confusion on his face.

“I can't... take the ones back I did, though,” he said, his voice cracking.

The Doctor's hearts started racing in foolish, foolish hope. Hope always got her in the end, no matter how many times she swore herself to give up.

“You can't,” she agreed, taking another step towards him. “Neither can I. But we can try to make the best of the ones to come.”

There were tears in his eyes, shining as they did so often these days. He looked vulnerable like this, more vulnerable than she had seen him in ages.

“I don't know... who I am any more,” he explained hoarsely. “The things I found out... the things I saw... I was losing control, so I... I completely lost it, I completely burnt it down and then... And now... I am them, but when I'm them, that means I can't be me any more, because I can't, Doctor, I can't be them, I can't be, I...”

She took the last step between them, almost jumped right towards him, and kissed him, gently, softly, so tenderly as if she hoped it could take his pain away. She knew it wouldn't, couldn't, but there was one thing it could do, always.

“Right now, you're more you to me than you've been since I left,” she promised. “And if you let me, if you want me to, I can show you who that was. I can.”

His breath hitched and he swallowed, heart, his eyes still transfixed on her lips.

“I-” he started, stopped himself, then tried again, but not a word would leave his lips. With a desperate wince, he grabbed the Doctor's face, pulling her into another kiss, long and mind-spinning, desperately hungry.

She clung to him, breathless, kissing him back with all she had, and with a loud thud, he had pressed her against the wall, his lips never leaving hers, until they did, hot and lingering, as they wandered down, first to her neck, then her shoulders, making her moan as he pulled down her suspenders and tore away her shirt.

If everything else failed, she thought. There was always this. The one security they had in all their lives seemed to be the other.

He pinned her against the wall with his body, knee between her legs she let out another loud moan, and quickly removed his own jacket and shirt. Fascinated, she let her fingers run over the outlines of his chest, making him shiver underneath her touch, as he moved in for another kiss.

He grabbed her again, sitting her down on the console, as he began freeing them on their trousers, and she quickly kicked her shoes away, wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him closer in a haze.

“Doctor,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “Theta... my Theta...”

He didn't wait long, pushing into her hard and she welcomed him with a moan, closing her eyes as he held himself in for a moment, before he started thrusting, slow at first, then hard and fast and she met his thrusts, her mind spinning, as she slowly lost herself. Suddenly, there was a wave of lust and love running through her, seeming to fill every corner of her mind and these weren't her feelings, but so familiar, after everything, all these lifetimes still so familiar, they might as well could be.

She couldn't tell when they had opened their minds to one another, but she could tell he felt her too, and connected like that, trapped in a loop of lust and desire from both their bodies, they tumbled over the edge in the exact same moment, both screaming the name of the other in Gallifreyan.

“What did they do?” she asked, that same night, cuddled up to him in bed, a hand in his hair as she gently stroked it. He was like a cat, unpredictable, calculating and deadly, but right now, he was more like a sleepy kitten, purring in her arms. “To make you lose control like this.”

“Not today,” he pleaded. “I can't... I don't want to... Doctor, I can't.”

“Okay,” she promised, running a thumb over his cheek. “That's okay.”

“I do.. I...” He took a deep breath, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes, an expression in it she had never seen before on him. “I did regret it. I never wanted them to... I hated them. I did. I hated them because they had you and I didn't, not any more, I hated them because they should've been our children, but I didn't... ever mean to...”

“I know,” she sighed. “I always knew that. Don't think for a second I'd forgiven you, if it had been any other way. All I wanted you to do was... well. This.”

She smiled weakly.

He swallowed, then nodded.

“You think I can do this?” he asked.

She kissed him softly.

“I _know_ we can.”


End file.
